Storm of Penance
by ksgrip
Summary: This is the story of a Death Korps guardsman whose tormented past constantly burdens his actions as a soldier of the Imperium. In a backwater planet, thrown into another pointless war he finds his place in life as he falls in love with an Eldar woman.
1. Litany of sacrifie

_**Storm of Penance**_

This is the story of a Death Korps guardsman whose tormented past constantly burdens his actions as a soldier of the Imperium. In a backwater planet, thrown into another pointless war he finds his place in life as he falls in love with an Eldar woman.

" _In war we live, through love we grow, in penance we die"_

* * *

 **Chapter 1: Litany of sacrifie**

The slow and lumbering truck came into a halt in front of the assembled line of soldiers. As on cue the old machine complained with a grunt as its more than once reassembled hull stopped its motion. With sloth the sergeant opened its lateral hatch and made a waving move to the rigid men of the squad. In order one by one entered the truck, all moves being calculative and precise. The last one before finally sealing the door took a second to admire its corrupted beauty, his dusted gas mask concealed a sad smile as the spires of his hive probably would be his last look into the past.

"Reave¡

Are you waiting for a nice lady to send you a kiss or what? Close the damn hatch and be done, we are already low on time"

"Yes sarge"

He took another lengthy second before closing it off and taking a seat as if that second would materialize his hopes in front of him. He knew all damn too well how futile the gesture had been.

' _If only you had come…'_

* * *

He was Krieger through and through. The life in the hive was harsh and unforgiving. The wastes of the planet while lethal were the only kind of nature he found security on, like a mad man´s trance. From the smouldering ruins of long blasted building in an already forgotten war to the toxic clouds of the planet of Krieg he found himself at home. Such a wasted orb bloated with disease and suffering made a fine bunker for billions of vermin, stack in a constant wariness of dying off and be forgotten. For them happiness came from routine and work, familiar places and actions that everyone would thrive for when those were absent. This partial nightmare makes the hell hole that we today call today Krieg, his home.

From childhood a very strong urge to explore was what made him a natural candidate for the guard; undoubtedly it sometimes caused him more problems than benefits on the long run but no one really knows what lies ahead. Remarkably he had a particular fond in exploring the underhive against the will of his elders. Mutants and thugs competed for the dirtiest pit of the galaxy in sparring contest, an occasional shot and murder on every corner of the scraped project of a city made this a particularly dangerous hobby but his unequal ingenuity always saved the day.

Krieg was and is infamous for the infantrymen it produces, a legion of black coated messengers of death called the Death Korps. Their defiance unparalleled in the hole Imperium as a beacon of hope, millions of men and woman who would never leave their duty in fulfilment of their own cowardice. Beings made of steely muscle and unbreakable will, prepared to march into hell for the protection of mankind, no remorse on their backs and no mercy on their blades.

The planet manufactured them like an artisan would chisel a finely crafted desk, always seeking the most minuscule of holes to tear apart the lives of those unlucky enough, Death ever vigilant, adopting legions of horrendous mutants and incurable diseases under its despicable presence.

After all it was still home, His home. As his parents very well new becoming member of the Korps, was most likely a death sentence, never desiring him to become part of it they introduced him to a local noble who lived from renting and repairing military equipment. Reave had the uncommon talent with metals only a blacksmith could master, his intellect launched his love for machines and engineering beyond a mere job. The affairs of an engineer back home were to repair, construct and outfit every piece of technology this planet needed, through his hands anything could get back to working life.

But talents are not what define a man. His dreams yet to be conquered on the other hand do, as such his restless mind found itself wondering of the vast universe, his thoughts anchored in his ignorance of the overall picture. No barrier could withstand his thirst for knowledge, an urge for exploration so primal that he found himself lost in the cramped corridors of his hive.

The canvas of incandescent glows that is the firmament called him without consolation in pursuit of a worthy explorer, with the imposed decision by an incomprehensible force demanded of his vowels someone who would unveil all its secrets.

Such is how from the eternal dust of his planet he would stand up, arms raised to the stars, his only burden being the sickness that would follow his father until his death-bed mere days before his 22th birthday.

* * *

The boy no longer was, a man had taken its place after all those hard years of life and miseries. Reave was not much taller than his father was, standing at a good 1.85 meters. The broad shoulders he so proudly carried gave him an imposing figure even if he was not the biggest fish on the bowl. Two small orbs of a seasoned blue swirled with silver in an amalgamation of deep sea colours, his look one of disdain and intelligence.

Short, cut tight oak coloured hair gave the man an outlandish look, his hair being considerably longer at the top of his head, a messed up fringe marking its end. He had a peeve habit of erecting his fringe at themere suspicion of it having given up on fighting gravity, his right hand seemingly impossible to contain by his side, a gesture that would never leave it´s bearer.

Hand labour gave him quite a strong image; the resilience imbued in his sharp features gave Reave a maturity beyond his age, his chin was sharp and prominent, most of the time jaws were peppered with a three days beard.

Many years had passed since that pitiful work for the noble; still his more than talented hands with machines made him pursue the career bestowed upon him without a second thought. As a natural engineer many times had the Administorum solicited his help for repairing equipment, an occasional well fared citizen appeared to give him a device in need of some of his touch, and in even rarer circumstances a thug who wanted to pimp up his guns would call for his help.

With no little effort the old garage where his old boss staffed irreparable scrap, tools and throne knows what, was transformed into a comfortable workplace as the old bastard in a show of regret handed over to his best worker the garage. Pools of oil graciously decorated it´s soil, the order in the room non-existent with tools hanging in places were only the craziest of artist would think fitted them. His workbench flanked the entrance to the garage, leaving plenty of room for him to guard his stuff and have a good view of the hive. In the meantime when nothing was to be done, he waited at the doorstep, carefully looking at the crowd whose presence flooded the streets.

The day of his 22th birthday, his heart having skipped several bits after his last family had passed away, he stood there with no work waiting for him. Between the frontier that separated the hive´s madness and his more or less ordered refuge, at least until a ghostly figure whom would be the bane of his live materialized in front of him.

A Slim and tall woman with long black hair, with a curly touch to it, stood out of the rabid animals which were the streets of the hive, amassed with people, hardly even able to see above them as the dome of buildings shadowed the unnatural weightless movements she made. Her walking embroiled every one of his senses, moving with grace through the crowd, never disturbing the flow of people. A skin pale as silk defined a fine curvature only veiled by a finely crafted blue dress, setting what was of importance and lacking any kind of clutter were it was´t.

He stood there, looking, observing like a sniper would follow its prey, not even breathing and without blinking, fearing that it would disturb this superb hallucination. In a mere sight he fell in love. He had just discovered what ment to love someone whose blood is not yours, to meet that one person for whom you would throw into the jaws of hell without hesitation, that one and single curse whose very image would follow all your steps until your life force would slip away.

Reave may had been an oblivious dreamer most of his life, but sure as hell he would not let this dream slip away. His sweated shirt, dirtied with oil and other unguents and the olive military stile trousers he wore would have to do, as a lightning would crack through the clouds, he ran, never stopping until she was at his grasp…

* * *

 **M41:432**

 **Segmentum Obscurus.**

 **System Eta Carinae.**

 **Designation: Planetary siege.**

 **State: On going.**

 **Forces: PDFs, Death Korps of Krieg.**

The camp was a mess, still with a careful balance between total caos and the delicate order maintained by a column of command whose orders took each squad into its designed labour. A bolt to the head tends to be a more than convincing offer when dealing with the daily affairs of a soldier in need of cohesion and order. Nevertheless the Korps were different, no other force in the imperium could match their dreaded and cold efficiency aside from the Astartes. The first line soldiers having more balls and an impervious will specialiced in making the enemies of man suffer under holy fire.

Reave had not seen his homeworld since his entering on the Guard, four really long years since the last farewell would pass. The greater part of those years would be spent inside the blocky transports of the imperial navy with thousands of men cramped in tight spaces that only hivers would value as enough vital space. This situation made for a good opportunity of making relations with other soldiers, as their only way of entertainment was an occasional chatter, the windowless ships leaving little to no room for imagination.

Through the innate boredom these ships funnelled into every men he would fine comfort in exploring those dreaded environments where his company would be deployed. Only the transports gave him a brief moment of contemplation before thundering into another battlefield.

Today, the day of his 26th birthday, his company would be deployed into a verdant paradise called Cestis under the orders of a decrepit Imperial guard general named Dacius. Three regiments of Death Korps guardsman alongside numerous Catachan jungle fighters had been sent to the planet in help of the local forces. The Cathachans would serve for quick operations in the densest of forest, while the Death Korps would be the anvil and hammer that would catapult the war in favour of imperial forces and crash any opposition.

He as a member of the 43th battalion was sent to the fray along his longstanding friend Karl. Both had been together for the most part of their lives confronting the same adversities and fighting the same injustices. Saying they were flesh and bone would be an understatement. Their families had shared a small apartment at the hive, them being kids in a tight space with no one else to befriend made inevitable for them to not make a strong bond. Furthermore their relation became far more inmate as all of Reave´s loved ones had perished one by one, leaving the boy by himself.

Karl was certainly the crutches that sustained his friend in the direst of moments, always with a smile in his face knowing what would be the appropriate words needed at any given time. He was not dissimilar to a clown for the squad, his jokes and pranks awakened the all but necessary laugher in the men that surrounded his figure.

At night Reave and Karl had managed to get a Little rest after being ordered to maintain the increasing pile of broken lasguns and equipment they had to repair, by order of the commissar, not to stop unless they had made every single gun flawless and he could see himself on their shiny coat of paint.

Karl decided that to snap some jokes here and there would do no harm and left their shared tent in a blink of an eye; Reave refusingly followed as his body begged for some sleep, tired beyond measure he gave a shrug in defeat and simply followed his friend.

The night was cold, really cold as the place delighted it´s visitors with the cool of a fridge. Alongside the fainted light irradiated by the pair of moons, whom observed the planet from orbit, the dim orange shine of fire painted a wintry picture. The clouds caressed softly the sky, darkness came to sleep in calm, sheltered by the protective wings of silence.

Thousands upon thousands of black coated tents laid in rows that would be identified from orbit as ants whose work oiled the great machine which was war. A nearly deserted oasis in a sea of green was its basement, human hand having carved a stronghold that could resist a thousand sieges. The mortal inhabitants passed the night redeeming themselves with fiery liquor and contagious laugher.

* * *

Karl threw a bunch of blankets near the fire to make a fine sit, taking it as his personal throne. Reave followed and sat cross legged besides his friend and gave a grimace to the scene. This were the moments he liked most in the Guard, just a council of soldiers wanting to pass the night in some ressemblance of a family.

"Lads, anyone want to have a good time?"

The pack was called by the crimson haired Krieger; Karl instead of the bulky appearance of his friend had a more slender figure, its strength hid in plain sight. Freckles painted an obscure line on his chicks; the pale brown eyes that stood above did little for accentuating their presence.

"Not gonna give you any pleasure this night dear." snapped Fred with a grin on his face, as he sat on top of his helmet, the rude man, not much smaller than an ogryn had trouble maintaining balance on the tiny piece of metal.

From behind a parked truck that stood beside the tents, appeared the sergeant followed by a silent Rick whose intervention in the squad´s life rarely exceeded that of battle preparation. A bottle of stolen amassed glued to the sergeant hands called the attention of the assembled men, their eyes wide as the moons that stood above in expectation of the fine liquor.

"Boys look what I´ve got here, a finely smuggled bottle of broken dreams. Cheer up if you want some of it." Said the sergeant as he took its place by Reave´s left side.

As on cue all of them stood up and gave a loud roar in celebration, Fred also articulated an excited whistle. Their buts back on place, the scarred sergeant shared the liquor with his men, half of the bottle already wolfed down when it got back to his hand.

"Damn drunkards... She hasn´t lasted very long"

* * *

They sat around the bonfire, wasting their sleeping time before finally going to bed, in pursuit of a well-deserved easing. A myriad of sounds flooded the camp, having become ones of distant laugher with an occasional shout conjugated by the cracking noise of Wood being consumed by fire. Rivers of alcohol were consumed that night as bottle after bottle appeared in their hands. Drunken the pair decided to retire, wobbly leaping over Fred´s body as he happily slept on top of a rock. Karl dropped himself on the uncomfortable table that their superiors called bed, the tiresome of the entire day having made a toll on him.

"Holy emperor I needed some rest." said Karl with tremendous sloth in his words, ending the phrase with a hiccup. The last day had been a harsh one as some illuminated pdf decided that attacking the enemy position without proper air support was a good idea, and now they were stuck with more than enough crippled tanks to repair.

The many years at home repairing military equipment made Reave a valuable asset, not needing of those freaks of the adeptus mechanicus looking over every single scratch of paint, always prepared to rub their surfaces with really hard to clean oils. Karl was a mere assistant, but his work nevertheless made the task at hand far more manageable.

Reave grimaced and was now face up as he tried to alleviate his nausea just a mere deviated though from vomiting. His right leg laid on top a mountain of dirty clothes while his eyes impervious to their surroundings kept closed trying to contain his dizziness.

"Without the cogboys here to swarm the base with servo skulls and servitors we are pretty much the only people here who know how to keep these things working so… Deal with it"

He said clumsily while one hand rubbed his eyelids, the head on top of the other arm as his feet moved in the same example. Only after a slow succession of controlled breaths his nausea started to disappear. With a heavy sigh and his mind making those unphysical flips that only alcohol could provoke, his mind left his body and imbued itself in thoughts that would be better kept locked.

Throne he missed her.

Reave had been with the guard for almost 4 years now. Karl always was by his side, together they had seen many things that would make any ordinary men melt down.

From his childhood he desired with an insurmountable amount of love the idea of taking a seat on the Korps to explore the vastness of the universe. His dreams had to be postponed by the affairs live would throw in his direction. When Macha appeared on his sight everything changed.

No choice was left on him when she died. His soul had been torn apart with her loss, never to be reassembled. What once stood as a way of making his deepest hopes becomestrue now was a cold and unforgivable way of erasing his misfortunes. The living had become far direr, as the end of the tunnel did not have an inviting light on to which tie his fate, only the obscure certainty of eternal loneliness.

Every night he dreamed the same thing over and over again. It was a recurrent nightmare, the very moment when the life he had so hardly constructed was propelled into the abyss. The face he so much felt in love with the first gaze now lay broken, with a sad smile devoid of life stared at the nothingness.

Wondering if even living was worth anything, the only thing that kept the train of his life not getting out of rail was his anger, the anger at a unjust universe that constantly procured death to the few that deserved to live. Full of hatred for the captivating liar who had decided he was not worthy of his blessing. That was his fuel, not brainless loyalty to a cause he couldn´t even see with his own eyes nor to pursuit a better life, he was there to redeem himself. Perhaps one day all would come into place.

 _Perhaps..._

* * *

Time is meaningless when your mind leaves the real world. His concentration had kept him imprisoned for at least an hour, only to be broken by his friend voice. As he turned his face to the voice motion sickness made his nausea appear again, blood pressuring in the veins that crossed his temples with much greater strength as each heartbeat was gifted with a sting of pain.

 _Mental note, do not drink anything that the Watchmaster offers._

"Reave."

"Yeah?"

Throne his head pained.

"Do you think that we did something bad in another live? Pissed off the wrong god and now we are stuck in our version of hell." Karl said curiously looking at a trinket like some kid with a toy.

Struck by the sudden 'what is the meaning of life' type of question Reave took a few seconds to think his answer.

"Care to elaborate?"

The red-headed gave a nod and shrivelled his expression in sign of having a hard time deciding what to say.

"We´ve been together through pretty batshit crazy things for what? Almost four years now? That is a long time if you ask me." His expression was melancholic with a taint of sorrow in his eyes. Karl had eased on the bed and now had his toy lost in the folds of his uniform." And I´m starting to grow tired of all of it."

Reave gave a thoughtful expression. Through all those years he had never even considered that the jubilant man had a stroke of remorse. Usually it was him the one having a strong urge on giving up. He so much hated what life had prepared for him that not a single time he had considered that his friend also stood defiant against the same problems.

"You know pretty well that also do I. The Korps is a capricious lover in the sense that it demands more than ever gives back. Maybe one day we both will be having a well-deserved vacation on some distant beach loss of the hand of god" Both gave a chuckle and kept their sight locked into the tent ceiling, a grin of a smile lumbering in their faces.

 _That would be truly a blessing if they ever came up victorious._

With a sight he let his right arm fall limp outside his bed and shrugged."At least I swear that something above us hates we are still breathing. If that is some petty commander or the God Emperor himself is something I don´t Know" said Reave with a contemplative look on his eyes.

Karl limited to give a meditative hum in response, his face gave off the impression of processing stacks upon stacks of information as if that would bring a definitive answer to his respond. Reave gave a half-hearted chuckle at the naive look of his friend.

 _He may be a battle hardened soldier but his interior child was still toying inside his mind._

That man was the only reason he was still awakening each morning, had it not been for his sense of humour he would have thrown himself in a suicide charge to end that joke of a life he had. As his mind danced with the idea, exhaustion overtook and blackness embraced his troubled mind as his eyelids slid down with as much speed as a sloth would use to take a piece of fruit.

* * *

Cestis was exactly what every Krieger would…

Despise. A healthy and beautiful planet full of life. It reminded them of what history took from their people like a monument to all their sins.

The place was full of verdant grass, like if a benevolent god had made it his plaything, making it seem like a constant spring was going on. Intensely coloured birds and other fauna difficult to classify peacefully lived in this heaven not bothering to interact with the humans that had invaded their habitat. Relatively 'untouched' by humanity the landscape had very few scars on its surface, only the starts of future cities and the ones already consolidated dared to defy the overall unison in the planet. For a couple hundred years nature would endure… not much hope for it after that.

The weather had a weird sense of humour as at day light a healthy temperature delighted its inhabitants; at night human life would barely sustain itself at the wake of a nightmarish and bone chilling cold frost would engulf the planet's surface. Like a figurative middle finger the local fauna and flora effortlessly survived the hard contrast, placidly mocking the puny humans.

It was an explorator fleet the one who not so long ago discovered the planet a few hundred years ago, the greenish orb and her two grey brethren that danced hidden in the eternal night now were the queens of the bail. As the amebae the imperium was, this oasis would get consumed and added to its limitless dominion.

In the sense that many wise men once said, war is inevitable, humanity its utmost defender. As prove of how the survival of the fittest mentality would accompany the species all its history, blood would run prematurely in our wake. The conflict first started as a rebellion thought to be easily extinguishable, at the eyes of outsiders, all fault of the heretic populace. But nothing is that easy, isn´t it?

He had seen many times people fight for good reasons, things that any none brainwashed twat would stand for, but the imperium being the shithole it is tends to destroy anyone who stands on the way of their corrupted leaders. The justice and the happiness of the population was the lowest of priorities, any kind of freewill was an affront to The Emperor was constantly repeated in each imperial world not by words but by punishment.

Half the colonized planet was at war with the local planetary governor, Otton masslow. The man had grown up to a dreaded state that even inquisitors would have problems in achieving. Trembling while walking, yet tenacious and fearsome, an aura of despair followed the man where ever he stepped.

Otton was ambitious, perhaps too ambitious. He sought total power, absolute control of everything this garden world had to offer, some lesser inquisitors saw in him a potential problem as power makes people hungry of that addictive liquor. Funnily enough the war that came as a means to seek his dethronement sought the destruction of those who wanted his life ended, freedom from the claw that was rending the planet to its annihilation. Death incarnate, for at his very indication millions would be purged to never come back, his will unfathomable.

The Korps were sent to "pacify" the local rebels and give the planet back to the Governor, as always war is not just a matter of who shot first or when but a complicated web of lies and poisonous pride. Such was the sad reality behind this convoluted plot. By the time the Korps had made planet fall the situation had devolve into a stalemate, those rebels were fighting like a rabid animal inside its cell, not giving a single meter of soil, backed up by intense artillery bombardment and heavily entrenched. Many attacks were thrown right into the enemy heavy bolters, claiming the life of many men in a display of unnecessary slaughter. Was the emperor´s currency so worthless?

* * *

Most of the frontlines where the loyal troops stood were under heavy fire, their imaginary lines blurred as the kill zones between trenches had widen up to several kilometres. A nearby explosion caught the attention of the pair who not so long ago rested inside Morpheus hand´s.

"What Th..?" Reave snapped clumsily, tucking a hand on the bed to test his surroundings, light of a newly arrived day dazzled his unaccustomed eyes.

"Reave, take this" Karl threw a krak grenade in his general direction that nearly slipped Reave grasp as his mind was still awakening. Throne forbid if that would have happened.

He hated when Karl did such things.

"That explosion was too near for comfort" He claimed as if it wasn´t obvious enough.

"We need to reassemble. Get your equipment ready by yesterday" Nearly ordered Reave to his friend who stopped bluntly his compulsive search at the comment.

"You know that you are no superior to me, don´t you?"

 _This is no time to protest buddy._

He sighed and exited the tent with his lasgun being scooped up mid walk, Karl shortly followed. Both ran to the place where the last night a bonfire heated their bodies. The sergeant was barking something left and right trying to make order of this chaos.

"Ok listen lads. We have enemy armour incoming from the northwest with a heavy push of infantry right behind it" Said their superior tracing a line in an old and dusted map of the region, marking a route that crossed a canyon. The only treeless place in a good radius from their position, a lengthy Summit of mountains flanked the both sides of the canyon making it a natural choke point, one which had an important airstrip hid inside it.

"They are expecting to take over the airstrip and successfully deny us any kind of provisioning. The consequences would be… Catastrophic. If we lose those birds, we are pretty much going to run the whole campaign with what we have now". Said the sergeant painting an imaginary circle in a plateau at the far end of the canyon, the only affordable point where air supplies could be done near the frontlines.

A rough and dirty Fred raised his hand in protest to intervene. "Sarge, but what about planting some mines, they have yet to pass between those slopes at the end of the canyon. That way we can block their movement before their armour reach the staging point"

A grimace of approval on his face the sergeant nodded to the proposal. Sometimes the big guy had a good idea lurking inside that sawdust container.

"Ok I like your idea, sounds like a plan. Any objections?"

None said anything and he took it as a confirmation.

"You three will go to the left slope and plant some charges, for what I've been informed the zone is not really stable and with a explosion we can force it to go down" Said the man signalling Karl, Fred and Reave.

"Rick will go with me. We´ll advance past the trench and wait as a jack of all trades with some launchers. Hope we get their attention a throw them into the trap". He said to the emotionless Rick, whose only respond was a near imperceptible nod, to what the sergeant simply sighed in exasperation.

All now standing with the hand into their hearts shouted in the unison:

"In life, War¡

In death, Peace¡

"In life, Shame¡

In death, Atonement"

Roaring in excitement, ready to wage war, into the horizon they marched, for the Emperor was watching them that day.

* * *

 **Authors note: Hi to everyone who had shown interest in my humble project. This constitutes my very first attempt at writing anything akin to a story and English is my secondary language so please be patient with the more than sure mistakes I will commit.**

 **I have to highlight that a good chunk of the story is more or less written and would appreciate feedback. I promise you that unless I die (hope it doesn´t come to that) this story will get finished. Many times I have become attached to a fan fiction to discover that the author had abandoned the project midway and I won´t be part of that practice.**

 **This is an image that pushed me write in the first place about this topic. I think warhammer deserves a proper romance between elder/human that gets finished (which unfortunately there are quite a few good ones such as Suffer not the xenos to live, that never get completed).**

 **art/Love-s-Out-Of-Season-208565139**

 **My recommendation: Read the work**

 _ **The witch is forbidden.**_

 **That wonderful story is hidden in the mature section of the page and I instigate you out of mere admiration for the author´s work.**

 **Thank you all.**


	2. Valkyrie s ride

**Chapter 2: Valkyrie's ride:**

"Fred, get behind cover, you moron! I don´t want your head having another set of eyes," shouted Reave to his fellow Korpsman as a barrage of bolts cracked the soil beside his feet launching a cloud of gravel.

Fred ran to a wrecked Leman Russ seeking shelter from the barrage of shots coming his way. He barely managed to dodge them, the hail of bullets whizzing through the space where he once stood.

The canyon where the operation was taking place was a bland grey coloured area. The rocks had been carved by a river that no longer was, leaving behind two steep slopes that intertwined at the bottom of the canyon, flowing throw the landscape as the water once did. As most of the slopes were covered with a thick layer of loosely condensed gravel, the risk of being crushed by an avalanche of rocks was high, the only thing that could defy that fate being a few hunched trees whose figure stood defiantly against the abyss. On the far end of the canyon, just at the rear of loyal forces stood the plateau where aircraft regularly unloaded munitions, food and war-gear.

Half a company had been sent to the compromised terrain while most of the Korps laid waste to the frontlines with continuous artillery fire, a mere 20 kilometres from their position.

As it was planned, Reave´s squad would prepare a banquet of explosives for the enemy, hoping for half the slope to go down, that way successfully denying the pass and protecting the airstrip from a land occupation. For this mission, Reave was in charge of the demolition team, Fred would be the one carrying the payload while Karl with his long-las would pick off any enemy soldier who could dare to discover their plans.

Unfortunately, a wrong step sent a large chunk of gravel down the slope. Fred nearly fell to his doom as more than 200 metres of rolling down the slope would guarantee a painful death; only the quick reflexes of Reave avoided it with a hand grab. The rocks fell just above a heavily entrenched special weapons team whose heavy bolter had pinned down the team. By an act of pure bad luck, they had been spotted by the enemy soldiers when they were preparing to move their equipment to the forward positioned frontline. Reave and the others were supposed to pass under the radar and set the trap inside enemy territory. They would be the ones who would block the passage and deny any new reinforcements as the air superiority was still under loyalist grasp. Once the pincer movement was completed, the remaining enemy forces would have to either surrender or perish.

At least that was the plan…

"That fat bastard!" Reave internally cursed.

 _Couldn´t the big guy be a little bit more subtle when moving?_

A cloud of bolts exploded beneath his foot which had nearly erased one of his legs from existence, the shrapnel having imbued in his flesh like a vicious hound would bite an unsuspecting victim. Through his head ran thousands of possible outcomes of this mess as with dread inspected his wounds. Blood, lots of blood. Have to stop blood loss.

His right leg ached like crazy. How he could stand up was a mystery to him while his lungs anxiously thirsted for air. His breath faltered and wept in agony.

He would no doubt die unless the heavy weapon crew were dealt with.

In a moment of illumination his mind remembered the grenade, it was specially designed as an anti-armour explosive but if well positioned the metal orb would serve. He detached the grenade and pushed the activation timer supporting his back on the rock that had saved his life, while his nearly limp extremity laid extended on the ground.

 _5 seconds timer, launch at 3._

 _5…4…3. Now._

With a low noise, the fire propelled by the shock wave muted the ancient machine. He was relieved by the lack of…

 _Oh, come on!_

Once again the bolter spat fiery slugs in his direction; clearly, his effort had been futile and to make worse the situation his cover was cracking as each shot rented the rocky surface into a cloud of dust. A crack of pain rushed his nerves as his weight was posed on the damaged leg. A titanic effort was needed for the simple act of standing up, partially crouching and ready to stride for another piece of cover.

Like an angel, just before he had left his cover a crimson beam passed millimetres away from his eyebrows, the powerful light nearly blinding him but ultimately backing him down from his suicidal rush. His sight slumped to the place where the beam had come. It had been Karl, his unbelievable aim having nearly killed his friend, as the long-las glassed his objective. Finally, the clang of bolts exploding nearby became silenced.

Still confused Reave picked out of the rock and saw the operator of the heavy weapons platform trashed with an unnatural angle in his neck on top of the gun, the beam having carved a conduit all the way through. Shocked by the unsuspected shot, the rest of the operators took a few fatal seconds to react as a barrage of red beams ended their lives.

"Die! Die, you cowards! Aaaaah!" the half Ogryn was shouting as his autocannon roared in fearless defiance. Reave swore that Fred was laughing while his shot mowed down the humans below.

No longer was he pinned down and with satisfaction he sighed, only to have another crack of pain taking him back to reality. The pressure on his head raised as each heartbeat felt like a hammer squashing his brain. With much effort, he broke the fabric of his trousers and inspected the injury.

Looks bad but is just Flesh damage, hurts but not grievous, he thought. At least he would be able to walk in a few days' time, the prospect of having one of those bionics glued to his body was not a pleasant one.

"Reave, are you ok?" shouted Karl as he slid down, feet first down the slope, landing just where his friend stood.

"Been through worse. But will have trouble traversing this place, could you help me clean this mess?" Reave extended a hand with a canteen offered to his friend. Karl took it and poured clean water over the damaged flesh, all the while Reave was unrolling a pack of bandages, cutting it with his teeth. Once cleaned, he rolled the bandages and tightened them up.

The pieces of shrapnel surely had incarnated far too deep for the water to eliminate them but the treatment would have to suffice as their time was running out. He swallowed the remainder of water viciously in his canteen to placate the bloody taste of his mouth. With a spat, the ferrous flavour lessened to some degree.

"Can you walk?"

"Just give me a second." Having been patched up, he stood up not without pain and stepped up to test his damaged leg. His will far higher than the actual strength of his limp extremity fainted away at the pain that putting pressure on the leg provoked. But he was no disabled person; he was a Krieger, and as long as his heart poured blood in his veins, he would not back down, his leg had to work for the battle was not yet won. Step by step, refusing his friend assistance he regained his balance, confident enough of his capabilities.

At least as much as a tort would do compared to a blind man.

"It hurts but I think I can do on my own. We need to speed up. Otherwise, we may not be so lucky the next time."

Reave stretched himself his neck bones giving a crack noise in protest and nodded to his friend who in response nodded back.

"You both, we need to move and now! Sure their friends already know where we are."

"Copy that, we are on your way," Said Karl to the giant.

The pair slid down to where Fred stood with his autocannon aimed down the slope, Karl faring far better than his friend in the process.

On the distance the explosions of an exterminator giving up on enemy fire caught their attention, as a slap on their backs warning them of the upcoming storm, they resumed the march as there were a set of explosives needed to be planted.

Reave even if not the de facto leader of the group was delighted in giving orders to other people. Any fool would consider that a bad trade, nevertheless he loved the sensation far more than he would feel confident admitting.

"Karl you will wait here and pick off any enemy force that may have noticed our presence. In case of trouble call the sergeant for heavy fire. Fred will be the one planting today, I could try it myself, but I would slow all of us down."

"Well, this is gonna be fun," Said the half Ogryn all the while he caressed his enormous gun; Reave gave back a suspicious frown to the man wanting to reprimand his behaviour but quickly dismissed it.

With a hand, he pressed the comm link of his helmet as the two soldiers took their positions.

"Sergeant, the charges will be ready in no time. Is Rick prepared?"

No response.

"Sergeant?"

Static.

Wait a second.

 _Hope the bastard is alive, if not who would smug those amasec bottles?_

The static receded as a voice made its way, the elusive voice heightened its tone each second. "Got you Reave, the hobo is here with the launcher ready for your mark."

"Copy and clear."

"Reave?"

"Yeah, boss?"

"Good luck."

 _That is new._

"Eeeh… Good luck too, Sarge."

"Also, don´t fuck up. That is an order."

 _Aaha, that is the sergeant I know._

"Can´t promise. I can only do as good as you have taught me," said Reave with a malicious grin on his face.

"F*** off"

"Copy and clear boss."

The chatter having finished and partially chuckling he assessed his surroundings before finally giving the plan a green light. They were midway to the bottom of the canyon; most of the ground that laid below them was covered in death bodies as the battle had already passed that point. Pools of red nearly black blood painted frivolously the grey and otherwise bland landscape. Only a tree hanging on the top of a crest that broke the natural declination of the terrain was not touched by war. The rocky wall that looked upon the dead men below was one of whiter colour, it´s materials like granite. His hawk-eyes spotted the weak point and proceeded to relay orders.

"Fred, put the charges all the way through that crest. Once finished come back with me."

As if on cue, Fred was already hanging with his bare hands at the edge of the rock. This place was perfect as the rock were hard enough to break if a sufficiently large explosion made a crack on them.

The static of the comm channel went alive. Something was amiss

"Buddy, we´ve got heavy armour incoming. They are using that equestrian road down there."

 _Shit. Not now._

"How many?"

"I see three Chimaeras and a Manticore. Multiple infantry accompanying them."

 _Missile artillery…_

That was tremendously bad news, as the transports and the infantry could be dealt with in no time but having to worry about artillery complicated things beyond measure.

"Fred you will have to speed up."

"God these people have balls. They are a bunch of fools if they think it is a good idea to use damn tanks here, I doubt even one can cross that road," snapped Karl through the comm link while his sight was on the head of an enemy infantrymen, waiting for the signal.

Click the detonator. Rocks will fall. Clean up with the launcher.

"Charges planted, I´m on my way," shouted Fred while effortlessly jumped from rock to rock with the force of just his arms, to which Reave widened his eyes in disbelieve. He reminded himself never to anger the man.

"Sarge, everything is in place. Waiting for your approval."

As the first Chimaera was just below the crest Reave picked out of his platform to see the men whose life would be ended by his own hand, his thumb resting patiently on the detonator.

These local rebels had very little resemblance of a fighting company, probably composed of farmers and former PDFs. They were no match for the Korps, but they fought with a determination that even the Death Korps had trouble constraining. It was subtle but still noticeable. They did not seem enraged of full of fear, and they were not mindless drones who followed the orders of an overlord.

No, they fought with courage beyond that of a mere man. It was a wondrous sight to behold, had they not been in the wrong size of the frontline of course. Their voices blazed through the glittering surface of the slope as they sang ominously.

He could not recognise the language these people were using, but the sound of it was inspiring; it fuelled hearts of brave men and burned with fiery determination the doubts of the upcoming campaign. It was an ode to freedom and selfless sacrifice, their voices echoed in the terrain like thunder, giving off numerous replicas before fading away with as much sudden as they appeared.

No matter how many times you kill, no matter how much of a hell you have been the thought, fighting fellow human beings who you could not tell a single sin on was nauseating. It stank like a piece of rotten food would do after weeks of degradation, they were rebels to the Imperium, but no sin could be discerned, no vile xenos, no abomination from the warp, just ordinary people that probably had a good reason to justify their acts. His heart had already been fragmented, but his doubts took a firm stance this time, he knew he should not be fighting these people, his very soul told him so much.

"You´ve got my permission. Give them hell!" snapped the sergeant through the comms.

Reave took a few seconds before finally pressing the button, a bad taste of guilt would follow him from that moment. As blinding as the sun, an uncontainable source of light appeared where a tree had previously lived, oblivious to the world that made its cradle. Thousands of tonnes of rocks of different shape and sizes rocketed down the slope into the troops below, throwing time into a halt as the knowledge of the crime committed struck his heart. The simple act of swallowing became nearly impossible, and only the victory roar through the comms awakened his mind.

It was over.

Duty above all, the superiors always vehemently said. It is what has to be done he convinced himself. No amount of brainwashing could make the labour of killing easy for him.

He no longer knew the difference between what was right and not. So much pointless death. He entered the Korps so he could reconcile his life and fulfil long ago forgotten dreams. Having lost himself the moment she vanished, his only means of escaping was to perform mission after mission, leaving not time for remorse.

Whatever distracted his convoluted mind from thinking about Macha was at the end of the road a good way of letting his troubles pass painlessly. Even if it made him suffer greatly, he carried in his battle-hardened t-shirt the photo they took for their first anniversary, as a man could not look forward without a mirror to his past.

* * *

 **4 YEARS PRIOR: Krieg.**

"Now, turn your head an inch to the left... Reave!"

"What? I didn´t move."

"That was not the problem…"

"What was?"

"You! You look like you had never smiled to a camera..."

"Ahhh, hogwash. I´m doing fine, is just a matter of you not knowing how to appreciate my gaze," he snapped to his wife, a grimace on his face to which Macha chuckled and accepted the challenge.

"Also there is the problem of how ugly you are. There is so much I can do with a camera," said his wife with a mischievous smile while biting her lips.

"You are not much prettier either. I could be with anyone I desired... You just happened to be there when I was searching for some… tools".

"Ahaha, so you must be some undiscovered model, what a pity that you are with such an ugly woman. You know you could be with any boy fortunate enough to 'get in your way for… tools'," Macha laughed at him, noticing how he couldn´t answer her affront to his manhood a grimace of confusion on his face, his body rigid like stone with the mouth so open that one could introduce an elephant if he so desired.

Her pale skin was loosely covered by a black party dress covered in roses, the natural curvature of the clothes stood out her bone-chilling figure. The raven like colour of her hair curled up over her shoulders as the sun painted with gold and amber her locks.

No blemish on her skin, a mantle of unspoken preciously laid verses. No Olympian God could hope to stand against her beauty and not kidnap the woman for his admiration. She was marvel and legend, a fine example of what humanity could make if so it desired, so much that Reave had lost himself in his thoughts while observing the woman.

"Sweety, did you hear me?"

He snapped back to reality, confused by her giggles but welcoming of them.

"Absolutely."

"Liar. You look like an Ogryn would the first time he is shown off which end of the gun goes boom."

"Honey, just take the photo. It will be perfect, I promise," She stared at him a couple of seconds before finally accepting his words. She clicked the timer button and ran next to him; both smiling like this was the best place in the universe to be. Spires and domes of the hive in the long distance, blurring with the sunset, Macha softly leant on him and softly kissed his right chick.

* * *

His blue eyes needed to look at what had previously been a road full of people. The dust cloud covered every inch of air making impossible to discern anything. Half the slope had slid down just as planned; catapulting tonnes after tonnes of rocks that would build the unknown grave of those men.

A bunch of shouts exploded, most of them cries for help, a few of them actual orders for battle. A red beam nearly hit his head; Death had been merciful with him today.

Reave with his lasgun took aim to where the beam had come. A pair of soldiers were pulling out of the gravel a half broken body who incessantly cried in pain, another one of them giving covering fire.

The man who nearly had killed Reave felt limp on his back as the long-las carved a hole through his skull, his grey matter exploded in a cloud of steam, he inmediately shot the other three, his shots ending the entire squad in an instant, as the fire blazed from the barrel of his gun.

One remaining Chimaera. A few units remaining. Force disarrayed. The Manticore…

His eyes went fully open at the thought, the missile launcher platform still intact was aiming for what he could anticipate being his position. In no time ignoring the pain he stood up and jumped down the slope just as the tank fired one of its missiles. He made the movement without concern for his right leg, as he stupidly had used it as an anchoring point while his body slid down the slope. The pain of the damaged extremity became unbearable, making him nearly lose his balance as the rocks impacted on it.

A fuss sound increased its high-pitched noise as the missile descended from the skies, a second of calm, then blackness.

His body fell skyrocketing to the far end of the canyon, hitting the soil without much force as his rolling movement dissipated most of the energy. The projectile did not cause him any real damage, but the shockwave made him faint.

Reave slowly opened his eyes. He had a headache like no other, every part of his body burning in pain. He had miraculously landed in a tree just before falling to his death. Only a gurgle escaped his throat in protest, as his sight finally got back on track.

He was coughing heavily, the taste of blood back in his mouth yet again. For a few seconds there he stood, still, trying to recompose his mind.

Throne this had been a bad day.

He moved his neck and comforted himself after seeing that the damage had only been superficial scarring. His skin had burned in some places, but most of it was mere friction, the black uniform soaked in blood, partially torn apart from his body.

In the corner of his sight, an intense sparkle took his attention as only the twinkling of a vanishing star would. Trapped on the rock an elegant gem was in front of him, demanding to be protected from the harnessed terrain. A gem peppered with lilac tears, embed in a near amber colour crystal whose disposition loosely formed a heart, it´s majesty an allegory of his deepest hopes, stealing his breath and energy. The gem emanated light from its interiors, the rock called him, it wanted him to take it to wherever he would be. No thought crossed his mind, just empty admiration.

With a fearful hand, he reached the gem; its form funnelled heat of a kind that did not burn but simply attract. He backed down at this strange sensation; his breath held steady as his hand clasped around its perimeter. His scowled expression torn into wonder as his bruised fingers caressed its oval form, polishing the crystal with a thumb.

His hand nervously reached for his combat knife nearly shivering in excitation, the cutting edge now against the rock outlined its bending. After a quick leverage the gem detached from its rocky prison, now was his property he slid it inside his breast pocket. There its aura would guard his last mirror to the past, the one he so dearly kept.

* * *

 **Author´s notes:**

 **Thanks to BIBOTOT for acting as a beta reader and for correcting some glaring issues I had not noticed. Fingers crossed you like the chapter.**

 **As a reminder, please review the story wether you like it or not, I will take both kinds of constructive criticism with open arms and if you like what you see please give it a fav. I can´t stress enough how important is for me to know that you like the story that way, not only that but if the story has more reviews and favorites it is far more likely to be seen by other people.**

 **My intentions are to upload each week a chapter, if for any reason I can´t upload one I will try to get it done as soon as possible.**

 **Thank you all.**


	3. Storm of penance

**Chapter 3: Storm of penance**

* * *

He was trapped between rock and air; his body awkwardly lied on the unbelievably well-positioned branches of a tree that had so gently placed so he would be safe from the fall, though it was still a far cry from actually being safe. Climbing was far too dangerous in his bruised state. He was loosely hung on a tree that could very well break apart should he misstepped. The gem had captured his whole attention, but now the situation was pretty bleak. Strangely enough, no longer could his ears perceive a hint of a battle that should be still raging on. How much time had been he unconscious?

The answer now didn´t really had much of importance, heavily outweighed by the fact that he was trapped and would still be in the foreseeable future.

 _How can I get out of this..._

He sighed In desperation, maybe if he had any means to get back to the road.

 _A rope._

His mind twitched in excitation at the prospect of getting out of his unintentional nest. With a quick movement but careful of breaking his fragile cradle, he repositioned his body trying not to slip away. The black boots stepped on a particularly large branch that could be identified as the main body of the tree. As his back laid against the strip rock, he could not help but pray to whoever was watching over him that day to be merciful.

With a hand reached out to where his backpack was and slid it from its holster, supporting it on top of his legs and opening the zipper. Many things were inside it, most of them utterly useless in his situation, such as a grenade, many utensils for field repairs, ammo batteries….

All of them were crap.

Really bad news. Any other options?

"Fuck..."

He must have forgotten it back at camp; he damned himself a million times for such a stupid mistake. Had it been necessary he would have used his own blood and make an oath to never, EVER, go to battle without one.

"Hey empy, it would be nice of you to give me a hand. Would you kindly?" Reave said, nearly whispering to the air as if any prayer ever had any real consequences. Perhaps it was his lack of actual belief in a so convenient benevolent God for humanity. Nevertheless, he needed the damn miracle.

He leant against the rock and sighed, letting his arms go limp in defeat over the cramped bag. Either he climbed, or he simply accepted this tree as his new home. He could not help but chuckle at the thought.

The backpack afresh on its place and zipped back was now useless to him, so he decided to shove it away and let the heavy bag fell into the abyss, taking a healthy amount of seconds before a loud thud noise announced its arrival.

Even as his body burned in pain with a few precise movements, he was now standing up on the main trunk of the tree. His left fingers reached out to a ledge and hooped on to it.

"Throne, they will have to pay me triple just for this..." Reave whispered to himself.

The next ledge was too far away and in no possible way he could hope to grab it without jumping.

 _Better you be watching over me._

He sighed and tested his hold, promising to himself that he would not die today. Reave closed his eyes and concentrated on the task at hand, maybe if he got lucky he could get out of this situation. With all the force he could master he jumped, stretching his body to its maximum length.

Mid-air he realised the terrible mistake he had made. He grimaced in horror as his body now without sustentation was starting to lose impulse, his hand mere inches away from his desired objective but too far away to catch it. He was going to die.

Just in time out of nowhere, a pale hand had reached out and now held him from his wrist. The hold was precarious, and Reave nearly slipped away, but his saviour carried determination. With a strong pull, he raised Reave´s body like a doll. Reave mentally thanked every second million of times to his saviour and the Emperor for this miracle.

Thank you. So the fairy tales were real?

The pull got reinforced as another hand grabbed his battle coat, getting him in an instant to safety back again. Both stood still for a few seconds to catch their breath again; the shock still had his body completely rigid. No rag doll would have fared better as a death weight. He had to praise the man for saving his life just when needed.

Finally a sign of good luck.

The adrenaline of the moment had his mind clean of thoughts; the blinding light of the sun didn´t let him discern who had saved his life. Reave burst into laughter utterly unable to digest the irony of the situation.

"Buddy, glad you didn´t become soup down there" His saviour snapped while slapping his back comfortably.

 _Had to be you, huh?_

His unmasked face enjoyed the dim breeze the valley oozed around him. He had never experienced the pleasure of a clean till sky above his bare skin, each shake the delicate wind gifted to the man softly caressed his aching body. Reave took each step with a disgrace in his movements without equal, clumsily traversing the sloppy terrain back to his tent utterly gratuitous of still being alive.

* * *

The skirmish had ended up pretty quickly as the rest of the squad wisely utilised their vantage point, the enemy armour having been dealt with a few rockets and most of the infantry already dead by the time those were necessary.

Not sure if needed to damn or be gratuitous they had told him that the Manticore was the first tank to get vaporised. God, he had had a bad day, the entire place had schemed against him, not a stroke of luck left on the body.

Luck was a bitch to him sometimes. His last day was a monument to that reality.

Much to his despise, his squad had done all the fighting for him while he laid unconscious on a tree like a monkey. Perhaps everything could have gone south and by now all of his men would be death because of his inability to fight back.

As per usual, the medical staff patched him up quickly as mostly his injuries were more matter of pride than any real physical one. The leg pained though after three days of imposed rest, much to his hate. He let his body fall face-first, limply splashing against the bed in tiredness of yet another day of work. The shared tent had grown the kind of natural disorders he so much liked by on the hive. Who would care if it was messy?

The few seconds he stood in that position imprinted an extenuation on his body beyond natural proportions. Yet he would not sleep, not for now, not with his mind so troubled. With a groan, he complained as he turned his body to the ceiling.

With care, he took out from his breast pocket the one glimmer of his past his pocket safeguarded. Frowned in concentration as he tried to remember every aspect of that day, from the waving of her dress to the brilliant reflections of the hive as the sun rose to its preferred position. The wasted landscape even if horrid and dreadful had a toxic halo that made any of its sins slip under the carpet. Time became meaningless as it passed without track; Reave had been like that for almost half an hour hardly even blinking.

Four years, four really long years since that happened. Four years of fighting, a life devoid of anything to stand for except his loved Korps and his childish interest of discovery.

Sometimes you get lost in the grand scheme of things and fall from grace never to come back. When sadness overcomes your life the best way to react is simply to flee away, not accept reality, to seek people as troubled as you in hope for forgiveness. That was the Korps, a haven for the unloved, a place where even the filthiest of criminals with enough passion and dedication could die in the name of the Emperor, atonement being their banner, forgiveness their last reward.

* * *

"What are you looking at?" Fred curiously asked Reave for his distraction. It must have been something good for a man to waste that much time observing it, knife in his hand flaying an apple.

Reave frowned in exasperation at the intromission but ultimately decided to simply dismiss it. He was too tired or simply did not give a fuck to explain all that mess. Probably wasted time as Fred intellect had the shine of a fused light bulb and the time needed to elaborate on anything could be better used anywhere else.

"Nothing of your interest. I was… just remembering" Reave answered emotionless.

The man gave a drowned grunt in protest with the entire fruit getting devoured as his guts tried to give a cocked answer.

God Emperor, he lacked any manner.

"You gotta share it if a lady hides in there. Let me take a look," gurgled the man with utter disgrace in his manners already reaching out to take the photo, to which an irritated Reave shooked his head and spat a profound NO, nearly shouting and with as much authority he could gather, as his back faced the half-Ogryn. His body shacked and gritted his teeth in anger.

"Ok, boy. All for you…"

Fred snapped in disappointment and quickly lost interest after the answer. He knew that his manners had been too harsh, after all, Fred had done many things for him without wanting anything in exchange. Reave noted to himself to give an excuse to the man In a later time.

He couldn´t let his feelings slip out of him; it was hard for his pride to share his emotional problems with such ease. Who wanted to be near a man who was constantly mourning? The answer was simple. None.

Unknown to him Karl had watched the scene display from a distance, and as was natural he decided to annoy Reave for entertainment and make some social justice. Silently Karl entered the tent while directing a nearly imperceptible "Ssssh" to Fred with his finger in front of his mouth, to what the giant chuckled as a child would do foreseeing a prank.

Two hands woke up Reave from his concentration with two quick pinches, scaring him completely, the surprise nearly making him jump out of the bed ready to give a punch to whoever was behind. Karl simply laughed off his friend copiously, Reave shortly followed.

"Buddy I´ve seen frogs jump less than what you did there. Why the need of an air transport when I can just scare the shit out of you?"

"Don´t do that again, I nearly punched you," said Reave now chuckling and giving a healthy sigh of relaxation. Karl now calmer but still giggling posed a hand on Reave shoulder.

"How are you doing?" said while signalling Reave's damaged leg loosely. "Yesterday luck gave you a middle finger my friend. Had it not been for me you would not be here" His face had now torn utterly serious, conscious of how quickly Reave could have died of just a misstep.

"It hurts when carrying too much weight but other than that I can still do well by myself."

"Good, cause we are departing in one hour."

Reave frowned in confusion with a grim on his face.

"What?"

"Sarge told me a minute ago. Apparently, we will have to guard the planetary governor."

There will be a summary of the operation in two minutes, be prepared."

Awesome. Now they would have to work as babysitters.

The Korps were never meant to do that job; they were there to fight and die on the front lines, not to watch out the ass of a local figure. Indeed this was going to be a hard day.

"Fine… See you in there?"

Karl nodded and exited the tent in the blink of an eye. He let his weight fall back against the bed in vanquishment. His mind demanded real missions as having so much waiting time would drive him mad. That is what he had been doing for those four years. Battle leaves you very little time for wondering.

Reave had partially phased out, the background noise of the sergeant explaining why they had been condemned to such fate was meaningless to him. After the attack of remorse back on the canyon, he had tried to distract himself off the though and was looking forward to taking part in another mission that would launch his resolve back to a normal state. After all being in the thick of combat would deprive him of time to wonder if the motivations behind being in the Korps still held in place. Throne he was growing tired of all of that crap every day, now like a mad man he constantly repeated the same line of thought:

Keep steady and fight the enemies of the Imperium. Stay steady and…

"Ladies, I know none of us want to do this, but higher command demands it. Unless any of you want to risk an execution for disobeying orders, this is what we are stuck with."

Fred had raised his gigantic hand in protest, growing impatient for him to speak off his doubts. The sergeant weary of it finally gave him permission to talk about with a half-hearted movement of his hand.

"But sir we should be fighting on the frontlines. Why don´t we go there instead? We serve no purpose as babysitters."

All of the squad growled in approbation to the giant question. Reave snapped back to the conversation already standing up and with his lasgun tightened to his side with a hand holding the gun´s but.

"Sir, I volunteer for battle. I think I speak for the whole squad in this regard."

The growl now louder approved his proposal.

"No" Answered the sergeant dryly.

"But.."

"I´ve said no. Command has been pretty clear with it, and I won´t be letting any of my men to disobey an order…

The local governor has asked for a company to guard him, and you are part of it¡ End of the discussion" The man said signalling in his direction index finger aiming at him thoroughly annoyed at his intromission.

"Fine¡" Spat Reave furiously as he turned his back to his sergeant striding out of the place, the sudden gesture taking the man out of guard. The sergeant had his mouth open in disbelief, to what Karl gave a small gesture for forgiveness and followed his friend.

Reave was fleeing the scene as he gave a kick to a rock that happened to be there in a pure demonstration of anger. Reave had a few rough edges but never had he so blatantly contradicted his superior. He was furious. Why had to be him part of the retinue sent to guard that bastard?

"Fuck this place. I´m sick of it. To guard that trash bag.." grunted to himself.

A voice called him out.

"Reave!"

Karl, who else could be.

"What the actual fuck was that?" Asked the Korpsmen, closing the distance with a fast succession of strides.

Reave had not stopped and simply continued forward, ignoring his friend, not having even turned back to face him off, at least until a hand grabbed him from his right soldier and pulled him back. In a blind rage, he came close to punching his friend, stopping a few centimetres away from his face.

Karl slapped him and shoved him back, nearly throwing Reave of balance, furiously signalling him with his index finger and giving him a look of reprobation. If looks could kill that one would have vanished an Ork Warboss out of existence.

"Never do that again to me," said Karl giving space between each word to emphasise his point.

Both stood their ground quietly gazing at each other, the tension fading out as time went on. Karl had replaced his murderous look for one of worry, the anger on his face having become sadness.

"Reave, you should stop…You will get mad at this rate," worriedly said Karl while picking back up his gun, which had fallen in the brawl.

"It´s fine, don´t worry about me. I´m old enough to look for myself" Clearly annoyed Reave snapped back.

"That was rude for your part…"

Reave sighed and finally came into the reason of what he had done. His friend had only tried to calm him down. He owed not only his life but his sanity to Karl; he was his brother in soul. Ashamed by his acts Reave could only ask for forgiveness.

"Look… I´m sorry. Shouldn´t have reacted like that."

"You know perfectly that my forgiveness is a given. On the other hand, the sergeant may not; you owe him an excuse for your behaviour."

He nodded knowing fully how badly he had fucked up. With luck, the sergeant would accept his excuse and forget about the topic as nothing had happened. Not that he counted too much on that happening…

"Buddy" Karl now in front of him with his hand grabbing Reave´s left shoulder and the other holding his neck steady gave a look of unconditional loyalty.

"I know fully well why you are doing this to yourself. But you need to stop; the page has to be turned and start from scratch. I´m telling you this as a friend but also as an advisor, be done with it."

A torrent of tears nearly escaped his rocky gaze. Reave opened his arms and both gave each other a hug of forgiveness, the show of emotion ended with a meaningful nod.

"It is a little bit more complicated than just that I´m afraid."

Karl scowled at his affirmation but kept quiet in wait for him to make the first move.

"Back in the canyon, when I had to push the detonator, I doubted."

"What do you mean by that?" Karl asked now having eased his grasp and was now standing with his arms crossed.

"I mean that I no longer know if I can go to battle without feeling that I´m fighting the wrong people. I mean that I´ve lost that spark of unwavering loyalty. Call me crazy but there is something with all of what we´ve been doing in this place that left me uneasy."

"I see. I´ve felt it too. There is something amiss in this war" Karl now was looking to the ground with a clear frown in his face as he tried to digest the information. His expression relaxed in no time and gave Reave a wink hand in hand with a smile. Mentally Reave made an oath never to let anything happen to his friend. This world could not afford losing someone like Karl.

"Come on. We need to get you a bottle of amasec for the sergeant before he decides to cut your head off," snapped Karl smiling sincerely with his right arm crossed across Reave´s shoulders. "There are plenty of things we need to talk about, but now all of that will have to wait..."

* * *

 **Author´s notes:**

 **Well here we go with another chapter. This is was more of a preparation type of chapter for the main character. Hopefully with it you get the idea that I´m trying to present of how Reave is.**

 **The main drive of the character is to get a means of scaping the dread that his wife´s death provoked on him and how in his interior a war of morality is raging on. Reave knows that he is not doing what his head is telling to be the good thing but hardly is able to oppose that aspect as also the fighting keeps him steady.**

 **I wanted to ask this as seeing that the history is really not getting the kind of response I hoped and I have to ask if am I you like what I have already presented?**

 **To say that reviews are beyond important is getting short as this things take time.**

 **Thanks againg to BIBOTOT for detecting mistakes and prove reading.**

 **Next chapter will have something pretty interesting. I´m sure you will like it.**

 **Pd: please review and give me your feedback. Thanks to all**


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